The Washing Machine
by madAmeSaysWhAt
Summary: From a prompt on Livejournal 8D


**For a fic prompt battle on Livejournal. This one was simply: WillxEmma, washing machine, NC-17. Read that and thought… omg, how much fun will this be????? XD **

When one contemplates the lifestyle of Emma Pillsbury, the first thing one thinks is that she is a very sanitary person, and insists on cleaning everything with travel sized wipes. What one doesn't know is that her life is much more complicated than that.

Emma lives by a very strict schedule. Up at five AM every morning, including weekends, no matter how late she stays up the previous night. Her outfit is picked out by five ten, and in the washing machine it goes at five fifteen, along with her pajamas from the last night. She slips into a robe and dashes to the bathroom, hopping into the shower.

After fifteen minutes of meticulous scrubbing, shaving, and soaping, she dries herself and is back into the robe, carrying her towels back down the hall. She moves her clothing into the drier and the towels go into the washer, spinning around in the soapy water. At this point she settles into a small chair up against the wall, nibbling at an energy bar or two with a book: nothing to do but wait until her clothes are dry. After she is dressed and her hair and makeup is fixed for the day, she makes lunch, packs it up and heads for school at six sharp. She likes to be early so she can clean and organize her office.

She doesn't realize that her morning ritual may seem a bit strange until the first day of Will Schuester moving in. She is bolt upright in her (their) bed at four fifty nine, clicks on the lights and begins rummaging in her closet. He stirs, covering his eyes from the light.

"Hey Em, school isn't for three hours." She whips around, eyes wide.

"Oh, Will… I'm so sorry, I have to, um, get ready." Her cheeks fade to pink. "I need to be clean for the morning." He nods, smiling.

"Whatever works, honey." He blows a kiss, standing and stretching, making his way to the bathroom. She smiles at his understanding, grabbing a turquoise skirt, white blouse, matching bra and panties and a necklace, heading to the hallway.

Her laundry room is small, beginning its' life as a closet. Fortunately it was just large enough for a washer and drier with a shelf for cleaning supplies, but not much else. She strips off the nights' clothing, shoving it in with her daytime ensemble and clicking the on button. She reaches for the red fuzzy robe hanging on the designated hook, but her fingers close around air. Her head whips around, eyes searching. She is the only one who ever uses it, and anyone who's touched it without her permission is someone she didn't invite into her house. She goes white, immediately zoning into 'frantic' mode.

"Looking for something?"

She turns on her heel, staring incredulously. Will, unbearably sexy in his Christmas tree jammie bottoms and nothing else, is holding out the missing robe. Her mouth pops open as he tosses it down the hall, taking the three strides that removes the distance between them.

"Damn, Em, if I knew this was part of the package I would have moved in sooner." He touches her hips, guiding her close and licking her neck seductively. She gulps.

"Hi…" She jumps as he pushes her back against the cold washing machine. The icy metal sears her half-asleep skin. His hands torturously glide up her figure, tickling the side of her breasts.

"Does this happen every morning, getting naked in the laundry room? Or is this just for me?" He begins massaging gently, teasing the tight skin of her nipples. Her brain loses its' function at his touch.

"Usually… I have… the robe." He chuckles, rumbling deep in his throat.

"You know, I thought about that when I walked by. Why does she have her bathrobe hanging next to the drier? Good thing I decided to take it. Though I didn't think the results would be this nice." He pinches suddenly, and she twitches, deciding her arms need a better occupation than to hang limply at her sides. They swing around his neck, pulling their chests together.

"I have to be clean. Before school. My clothes. And I need to shower." Her thought catches up with the clock: she was six minutes behind schedule. She begins wriggling out of his grip. "I… can't."

Her foot nearly touches the ground in the hallway when he grabs her from behind, easily lifting her by the hips. She shrieks and giggles.

"I'm serious!" One arm wraps around her belly, holding her tight to him; she feels his excitement pressing into the back of her thigh, and it does nothing to help her in the attempt to peel herself away.

"So am I." His lips attack her neck and he bends over, reaching for… the door of the washer. He snaps it open and the machine quiets, the suds swirling in the bottom.

"Wh-what? What are you doing?" This is definitely not part of the ritual.

"Shhh." He nips her earlobe, bending in the other direction. She squirms, trying to be freed in vain. The drier door is opened, and in go the damp clothes. He slams it shut and turns the knob; it hums, warming slowly.

"Will, in all seriousness. As… as much as I'd love to… I really have to get ready." She tries to make herself focus on how much time she'd be wasting if she gave into his seduction. Oh, how she wanted to; she was nearly swamped with desire for his strong arms, chest, abdomen… But really, she has a job. Responsibilities.

He weasels up on top of the drier, sliding her up by the armpits. She squeals, and he settles her onto his lap, straddling one of his legs.

"W-" He cuts her off as he tilts her head backwards to catch her lips.

"Emma. Please." Keeping eye contact, he uses his hands to swirl her hips once, twice, a third time, on his leg. The vibration from the drier shoots up through his thigh, and right into… her. Her eyes widen to the size of saucers and a gasp is caught in her airway as his lips press urgently against her throat.

"Oh." Is all she can muster as he begins moving her hips faster, increasing the growing pleasure.

"See what I'm getting at?" His whisper is hot and heady in her ear, and she pulls away for a moment, flipping around to face him. She grips his shoulders for support as she begins to grind again, attacking his lips with an open mouth. He scratches up and down her bare back, surely leaving marks, but she can't even comprehend noticing, not when she's hot and wet and jumping and rubbing furiously against Will.

Just when she starts feeling good, _really _good, he scoops her up and dumps her unceremoniously onto the adjacent washer. She moans at the sudden loss. But it isn't for nothing because before she knows it his adorable flannel bottoms are on the floor and she's back onto his lap, though this time he poises her over him, kissing a breast.

"You know, if you're still feeling crunched on time, we can skip this… I can take care of little Will in the bedroom while you shower, we can just wait until tonight…" She shoves downward, onto him, groaning at the feeling. He bites her nipple, hard, licking a path back up to her mouth as she lifts and falls again.

"Please shut up, darling." He kisses her with everything he has, obeying dutifully as her legs twist around his back, their torsos colliding with every thrust.

The drier is warm and rumbling beneath them, and the heat burns her legs every time she falls onto him, but she doesn't even care. It's part of the excitement rushing through the moment, contributing to the pleasure: laid so thick in the air the couple can barely breathe through it.

She's almost there and he can feel it, her walls tight and slick, her teeth clenched hard onto his shoulder, marking him as hers and hers alone. He slips his finger down between them, rubbing up and down onto her, and he hears her gasping, sees her throw her head back in ecstasy, tiny spurting moans tossed out of her mouth every few seconds. This alone is enough to bring him right to the edge, and her jumping up and down faster than ever despite being obviously exhausted shoves him right over. He pulls her torso close, burying his head into her neck and messy red hair, breathing in her flowery smell as he explodes into her, trying to catch up with his breath.

Her arms slide around his back as they sit, heaving against each other, bodies still utterly connected. She pulls her head back to look at him, smiling dazedly. He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, twining his fingers with hers.

"I never really imagined my washer being used like this." She says, looking down and blushing. He laughs and lifts her off him, twisting her so she sits sideways on his lap.

"Emma, I plan to make passionate love to you on every surface in this condo. Get used to it." His grin is too adorable to pass up; she kisses it lovingly, resting her other hand on his chest.

The drier beeps beneath them, and she hops off, taking out her warm clothes. She begins to slide into her sweet white lacy undies, and he cocks his head.

"Don't you have to shower?" She bites her lip, taking out the bra.

"Well, we've talked about my… problem, and I think because I took two showers last night I can try skipping this morning… It would be good for me." She nods to herself, clasping the matching bra. He slides off, hugging tight.

"I'm proud of you." He kisses her mussed hair. "I love you, so much." She smiles, hugging back.

"I love you too."

**HOT DAMN, washing machine! fucking makes me happy. That was so much fun to write. **


End file.
